


posterboy

by Vitali (exocara)



Series: they'll die screaming [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 21:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exocara/pseuds/Vitali
Summary: “I’m going to kill whoever who did this,” Yuuri assured the poster. “I’m going to kill them for you. Don’t worry, baby, I’m going to murder anyone who thought it was a good idea to harm you. They’ll die screaming.”“What?” came the poster’s startled reply.“What?” Yuuri parroted back, because posters weren’t supposed to talk, especially not in Viktor Nikiforov’s melodious Russian accented voice.





	posterboy

**Author's Note:**

> part of a series of works based on the tumblr post: 
> 
> http://robotmango.tumblr.com/post/162202229684/me-crouched-down-in-front-of-my-tomato-plants
> 
> i take prompts on my tumblr: [vitavitali.tumblr.com](http://vitavitali.tumblr.com)

Yuuri really did not think that he deserved this. This was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. Was it because he missed his weekly call to his mother yesterday? Or because he didn’t say thank you to the cashier earlier that morning?

Yuuri held the poster gingerly with both hands. It was already damaged -- though hopefully not beyond repair -- and Yuuri did not want to harm it any further.

When Yuuri had managed to purchase a copy of Viktor Nikiforov’s limited edition 20XX Christmas poster {Silver Trim Edition}, being one of those who had done so before it had been sold out in under two minutes, he had believed it was too good to be true. And he was right.

The poster was everything he wanted it to be: beautiful and glossy and the perfect size to fit the blank spot on his dorm wall, but there was one glaring problem.

There was a _crease_ in the poster.

“I’m going to kill whoever who did this,” Yuuri assured the poster. “I’m going to kill them for you. Don’t worry, baby, I’m going to murder anyone who thought it was a good idea to harm you. They’ll die screaming.”

“What?” came the poster’s startled reply.

“What?” Yuuri parroted back, because posters weren’t supposed to talk, especially not in Viktor Nikiforov’s melodious Russian accented voice. And then he realised that the voice did not come from the poster, but behind it.

Yuuri lowered the poster, moving his gaze from Viktor Nikiforov’s beautiful face to... Viktor Nikiforov’s slightly worn out but no less beautiful face.

“Oh!” Viktor said, blinking. “You were talking to the poster. Okay.”

Yuuri quickly rolled up the poster, hoping, hoping, _hoping_ that Viktor hadn’t seen what was on the--

“Hey is that a poster of me?”

Yuuri wanted to crawl under a rock and _die_.

“No it is not,” Yuuri said in Japanese, and then in English. And then he turned around and walked away.

“Yuuri?” Viktor said. “Yuuri, wait!”

Yuuri did not wait. Yuuri was going. Yuuri was gone.

-o-

Back when Yuuri had been a wee little lad of just eight years old, he had seen Viktor Nikiforov on television, skating a program to Tchaikovsky’s The Lilac Fairy in the Junior Grand Prix held in Sofia, Bulgaria and promptly fell in love right there and then.

He had wanted to pursue ice skating, so that he could skate on the same ice as Viktor, but when the ice rink in Hasetsu closed down Yuuri was forced to give up on his dream, resigning himself to never meeting his idol.

And then he somehow managed to enroll in the same college as Viktor Nikiforov.

-o-

“I want to die,” Yuuri told Phichit. Phichit patted his head distractedly, a frown on his normally sunny face as he single-handedly sent rapid fire messages on his phone. Yuuri never really knew how Phichit was able to message so fast with just one hand, and he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know either.

“No you don’t,” Phichit replied easily. Yuuri went through this almost every week. The last time this happened, Yuuri had greeted an acquaintance-friend with ‘Hi, can I take your order?’ by complete accident a few hours after his work shift ended and never fully recovered from it. It had already been approximately nine days since Yuuri had last spoken to them.

“Yes I do!” Yuuri shot back.

“No you don’t,” Phichit said. “Because you haven’t straightened out the crease in your limited edition Viktor Nikiforov 20XX Christmas poster yet.”

“It’s the limited edition Viktor Nikiforov 20XX Christmas poster {Silver Trim Edition},” Yuuri corrected weakly. “And, damn you, you’re right.” His gaze slowly shifted to the poster lying on the table and, immediately, he was assaulted by the memories of what had happened that afternoon. He buried his head into his pillow and let out a high pitched whine. He could not believe that the one time he managed to meet his idol, he had embarrassed himself beyond saving.

“Why do I somehow hear parenthesis in your speech?” Phichit asked. The doorbell chose this moment to chime, saving Yuuri from the miserable fate of answering a question he both didn’t want to and didn’t quite know how to answer.

Yuuri quickly hopped up from his bed and walked over to the door. Phichit didn’t chase after him, still occupied with messaging. Yuuri took it as a sign that there was a god and he was going to get a break from his suffering.

Yuuri opened the door and then immediately shut it.

There was no god.

Yuuri opened the door again to reveal Viktor standing right outside his dorm room, looking a little put out, but mostly just confused.

“Hello Yuuri,” Viktor said.

“You know my name?” Yuuri said, and then immediately regretted his life. Of course Viktor knew his name. He just said it. “I mean, how do you know my name,” Yuuri corrected himself.

“Well, apart from the fact that you are the best dancer in the entire campus,” Viktor said, causing Yuuri to hyperventilate slightly. “You left your letter envelope on the table earlier this afternoon, along with your notebook? That’s how I found your dorm room, by the way. I, in no way, tried to find you on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter and, failing that, neither did I ask all my friends about you.” Viktor’s mouth shut with an audible click and he gazed somewhere into the middle distance with a steely look in his eyes. Yuuri did not notice. Yuuri did not even process anything he said after he saw the notebook in Viktor’s hands.

That notebook was something he used to take notes in class, but it also contained his top secret Viktor Nikiforov x Reader stress relief fanfiction that he had never ever shown anyone ever.

“So uh,” Viktor finally said, “yeah.” He handed the notebook to Yuuri and Yuuri all but snatched it back, cradling it close to his chest. Yuuri did not know if his face was entirely white or entirely red or maybe the horror and embarrassment mixed together and evened out the color in his face. He could only hope.

“Did you read anything in it?” Yuuri’s body asked because Yuuri’s brain knew better than to do anything as foolish as dig up the sins of his present and lay them in front of his idol.

“No, I didn’t,” Viktor said. He looked confused. “Should I have?”

“Nope!” Yuuri squeaked out. “No, you should not and you should never. Thank you for returning my notebook.” Yuuri then immediately throws his notebook somewhere further into the dorm room. He thanks his lucky stars at his side of the room, along with its twenty-seven posters, is further away from the door and hence out of Viktor’s sight.

Yuuri looked back at Viktor. Viktor was still standing in his doorway, a strange look on his face. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something.

“Yuuri,” Viktor finally said. “Since I gave you back your book it means you owe me!” Yuuri noticed that his eyes instantly turned glassy. “So let’s go out for coffee! Or tea, if you don’t like coffee! Or just a drink in general if you don’t like tea either. I’ll pay.”

“Now?” Yuuri asked, because he didn’t really know what else to say.

“Maybe not now,” Viktor replied. “But later? Hopefully soon.”

“Sure,” Yuuri said, his body taking over once again because his brain had entirely shut down. Viktor Nikiforov wanted to go out for drink with _him._

“Okay, good, okay,” Viktor said. “I’ll just give you my phone number?” Viktor took out a pen from his pocket and then paused. “Do you have paper?”

“Uhhhh.” The only paper Yuuri had was the notebook he had unceremoniously thrown further into the dorm room. “Use my hand instead?”

What followed was the most tension filled and awkward three minutes of Viktor trying to scribble out his phone number onto Yuuri’s arm with a slightly out of ink ballpoint pen.

“Alright, there,” Viktor said once he was done, pulling back to admire his handy work. Yuuri’s heart was pounding but he still managed to keep a straight face.

“I’ll contact you soon,” Yuuri told him. “And I’ll definitely wash off the number on my arm,” he lied.

“Okay,” Viktor replied. “And I’ll be waiting for your call. Or message. I’ll be waiting like Makkachin waits for me to come home every time I go overseas.” After saying that, Viktor immediately turned around and left. Yuuri closed the door and then sunk to his knees.

“Oh my god, I just embarrassed myself in front of him,” Yuuri moaned. “I want to fucking _die.”_

-o-

Viktor turned around the corner and, once he was a suitable distance away from Yuuri’s room, he rested his head against the fall face-first.

“Oh my god,” he muttered. “I just embarrassed myself in front of him. I want to fucking _die.”_

**Author's Note:**

> they are both losers and that's how they are
> 
> there's a viktor pov but i'm not sure if it's good enough?


End file.
